“Did they find a bruise or a blister around his left waist from where he was carrying the gun?”
“I don’t see what—”
“Are you a runner, Detective? I used to trail run. I’ve had to cut back to treadmills now, but I used to train a lot.”
Detective Bisset shook his head. “I prefer swimming.”
“That’s a good choice. My mother-in-law is an avid swimmer and constantly tries to convince me to switch because it’d be easier on my knees. I’m trying out the elliptical machine, but I don’t love it like I enjoy the treadmill.”
“I’m not sure what exercise—?”
“That man was running when I tackled him. At quite a high speed. When we hit the treadmill, I flew off the back. His sweatshirt was soaked—he’d been jogging for a while—and the shorts he was wearing didn’t have an elastic waist. They were cargo shorts. He was running and carrying a weapon stuffed in a pair of cargo shorts where it would have rubbed against his skin. After that long at that intensity, the friction would have been painful.”
Detective Bisset nodded slowly. “You’re saying that if he were a concealed weapon carrier, he would have had a proper holster. He wouldn’t have been running with a gun stuck in his waistband that would make him bleed.”
“Did he have a blister or any cuts on his left hip?”
“I believe he did.”
“If Justin McCabe had gone to the gym and just happened to bring his gun because he was going to the range later or even if he was afraid for his life for some reason, he would have had the correct equipment.” Katherine sat back in her chair and folded her hands on her waist. “Did you have any other questions for me?”
The corner of Detective Bisset’s mouth turned up. “Do you ever lose arguments, Professor Bassi?”
“All the time. I haven’t been able to convince my husband that coffee is better than tea or that we should get a little fluffy dog. But I do think I have pretty good instincts about people.”
Especially when I have visions about them.
“I think you do too.” Detective Bisset rose and held out his hand. “My advice? Get the dog. Just pick one out and bring it home. If you make it a rescue, he won’t be able to argue with you.”
Katherine stood and shook his hand. “I feel like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I have a wife and two ten-year-old daughters. Guess how many dogs I have?”
“One?”
“Four.” He shook his head. “When your wife looks up at you with big brown eyes while holding a little fluffy animal, you know you’re not going to win that argument.”
Katherine smiled. “I may take your advice.”
“Take this advice too: please don’t tackle any more gunmen. I really hate the thought of you and your friends out there” —he nodded to the break room— “getting hurt because you’re making citizens’ arrests. Leave that to the professionals.”
“They’re not my friends. We don’t even know each other from the gym.”
“That’s surprising.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “According to witnesses, you three ladies make one hell of a team.”
Chapter 4
Katherine spoke to a junior officer to finish her official statement, which was routine and mostly consisted of handing over all her personal information to the police and being informed that in the event of a criminal trial, she could be called upon to testify.
Since Justin McCabe didn’t seem like someone with mob connections, Katherine assured them that she’d be available.
As she walked toward the exit, she spotted her fellow crime thwarters still sitting in the glass-walled break room.
“That gun just jumped into my hand, y’all. I didn’t grab it. I didn’t even reach for it. I just thought in my head ‘someone needs to get that gun away from this kid,’ and then it just flew into my hand all on its own, and I don’t know what to think about that. I don’t know what to think at all.”
It didn’t feel right to walk away without saying goodbye. After all, they might occupy wildly different spaces in the world, but they’d been through something together. It wasn’t easily explained, but it was… something.
Katherine veered toward the break room just as Detective Bisset was approaching it.
“Professor Bassi, did you forget something?”
“I was just going to say goodbye to Toni and Megan.” She kind of wished the detective wasn’t going to accompany her, but what could she say? Please leave me to my own awkward social interactions, Detective. I don’t want an audience.
That would probably seem suspicious.
She walked into the break room ahead of the detective and gave a small wave to Toni and Megan. “I just wanted to thank both of you for being there yesterday when everything happened.” She heard the detective behind her. “I’m finished, so I’ll be heading—”
“Oh my God!” Megan exclaimed with a broad smile. “You’re Black!”
Katherine blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Toni muttered, “What the fuck?” Her eyes darted between Detective Bisset and Megan.
Katherine looked over her shoulder.
Detective Bisset’s expression was blank. “Yes, I am, Mrs. Carpenter.”
“Sorry.” Megan’s cheeks went flaming red. “I am so sorry. That probably sounded strange. It’s just that I’m from Atlanta, and there are like… no Black people around here compared to back home. It’s really strange.” She stood quickly and held out her hand; her cheeks were still flaming. “It’s nice to meet you, Detective.”
The mood in the room had shifted quickly from tense to amused.
Detective Bisset took Megan’s hand. “Nice to meet you too. And you’re right. There aren’t many Black residents in the Cove. My family and I are some of the few. I’m originally from Chicago, so I know what you mean. Love the accent, by the way; my mother’s people are from Georgia.”
“Thank you,” Megan said. “I think most people around here think I’m dumb.”
Toni rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Megan’s smile was strained. “Like her.”
Katherine felt the twin urges to walk away quickly and to pacify the situation. After a second of internal debate, she forced herself to go with the latter impulse.
“You know, when people are working from different cultural frameworks, it’s easy for misunderstanding to take hold,” she said. “Kind of like… right now.”
All eyes in the room turned toward Katherine. It reminded her a little of being in a classroom, which set her at ease.
She motioned toward Toni, who was sitting in the corner, glaring at Megan. “For instance, some people might assume that a person working in skilled trades like Toni didn’t excel in traditional education.”
“They wouldn’t be wrong,” Toni said. “I hated school.”
“But your line of work requires you to constantly update your skill set as technology develops, so practically speaking, you’re probably more educated than the majority of college graduates.”